Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 120 Fierce Battle (Part 5) (Long Chapter)

On the northern front of Ghanam, Captain Yair Boshyarov, commander of the 518th Mechanized Infantry Regiment of Zion, frowned as he looked at the stagnant armored formation and asked, "Why are our tanks not moving?"

"Because we've run out of fuel, sir."

The platoon leader smiled wryly: "We were originally planning a surprise attack. In fact, an hour ago, the artillery ran out of ammunition and switched to infantry following the infantry fighting vehicles to charge."

The chiefs would consume fuel very quickly under sustained high-intensity combat conditions; their 950-liter fuel tanks would be empty in just two or three hours, not to mention the long journey they had just undertaken.

The same applies to the other troops. Without supplies, their only chance of success in this raid is to storm Canam with lightning speed. Once they get bogged down in a war of attrition, the Allied forces will be on the verge of collapse.

"Damn it, we've broken through two of Shuangzhi's defenses! Two defenses! Victory is in sight!"

Captain Yael looked at the battlefield littered with corpses and scorched shell craters, his eyes filled with resentment: "Leave only the gunners and loaders in the tank crews to fire from the fixed turrets. The rest of the crew should be equipped with submachine guns and grenades, and reorganized into an assault company. The enemy is also at their last gasp!"

“It’s no use,” the platoon leader said somberly. “Even if we break through the current lines, we’ll still have to face the brutal street fighting. The city is full of Canam’s guerrillas; they’re hiding in every corner!”

Yael was stunned; he realized the other person was right.

The recent urban carnage remains fresh in the minds of all the surviving Zion soldiers.

The ordinary people they could slaughter at will, and the guerrillas with only passion, could wipe out an entire block with just a tank on a normal day.

But on that day it became an ocean, like an endless wave, swallowing up Zion's entire army.

Looking at Ghanam, which was so close yet an unattainable goal, Yael was momentarily dazed before continuing to order: "Organize the remaining troops to continue the attack. This time, I will personally lead the team."

The platoon leader was horrified: "Aren't we going to retreat?"

"Retreat?" Yair glanced at him. "If we retreat in this situation, the Kurds will run faster than us! Do you think the Arabs will capture us first, or deal with those disorganized, headless flies?"

He tucked a submachine gun into his pocket, strapped a grenade to his waist, and said to his platoon leader, "I heard that the 210th Division from the west has arrived. Show your dignity as a Zion soldier. Victory will surely belong to us. How can we be cowards until then?"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Lu Lin surveyed the battlefield from the perspective of an eagle's falcon. A large number of Chieftain tanks that had lost their mobility were abandoned on the battlefield. Some crews were climbing out of their turrets, carrying light weapons, and continuing to charge with the main force.

The northern defenses appeared to be crumbling, but in reality, they had ample ammunition, thanks to the fortified fortifications built by the Zionians themselves.

A reinforced machine gun position can suppress an entire infantry company's charge with just one skilled machine gunner.

As darkness fell, Lu Lin watched as the machine gun emplacements unleashed glowing "chains" that struck Zion's few remaining armored vehicles, sparks flying from the welding process. The soldiers inside the vehicles panicked and jumped out to escape.

The machine gunner inserts a tracer round every few bullets into the ammunition belt. This is not for show, but to help the machine gunner correct the trajectory of the bullets, and also to deter the enemy and coordinate operations.

Although it has its drawbacks, namely that it exposes one's position, the risk is worth taking compared to its strategic value.

"It seems this is Zion and the Kurds' last stand."

Lu Lin knew the outcome as he watched the large number of red markers move forward while the number of follow-up troops dwindled.

"But where exactly did Bandar go? Fahd still hasn't been able to contact him?"

Lu Lin frowned. He hadn't expected Bandar to come up with such a "trading" tactic. But then again, if the 210th Division from the west hadn't arrived so quickly, he might have succeeded.

"Hello, hello, okay, I'll pass on the message to the Major General."

Ibrahim hung up the phone and turned to Lu Lin, saying, "I just received a message from your father's Ministry of Defense that the United States' support is coming soon. The first batch will consist of 12 C-5 Galaxy aircraft carrying 1,000 tons of supplies, which will land on the east bank of the Euphrates River, mainly ammunition, tank parts, and anti-tank missiles."

Lu Lin was somewhat puzzled: "The United States is actually faster than Ant?"

“Yes, His Highness Mohammed contacted Algeria, and upon hearing that they were preparing to deal with Zion, they immediately expressed their full support and opened their domestic airports for transit, so the process was much faster,” Ibrahim replied.

Algeria, located in North Africa, is in a state of complete hostility with Zion, and is even more radical than most Arab countries.

In this war, Algeria was one of the few countries that sent air and ground forces to support the Arab world.

Your Excellency, you did a great job!
"Report!" A guerrilla fighter appeared at the headquarters entrance: "The defenders on the west side have already started fighting Zion's armored forces, but they probably won't be able to hold out for long. Battalion Commander Ahmed is organizing the troops to defend the city using the concrete structures!"

Lu Lin asked, "Have the residents of the city been evacuated yet?"

"We've already evacuated most of the civilians into the sewers," the guerrilla fighter replied. "That's the safest place in the whole city; even when it was shelled, over 70% of it remained intact!"

“Very good.” Lu Lin switched his perspective and looked towards the west.

A red torrent of armored vehicles was approaching, and behind that long red river, a small cluster of green markings stood out conspicuously.

Lu Lin pursed his lips. He knew that it was the armored unit of the Third Battalion. They were still carrying out their mission, but it was clear that they could not withdraw.

"Remember to apply for an honorary title for the Third Battalion later, a collective first-class merit," Lu Lin suddenly said.

Lu Lin sometimes felt really fortunate to have such a loyal unit, which never let him down in crucial moments.

Ibrahim paused for a moment: "If you mean the highest honor, then yes, their sacrifice was of great strategic significance, and I believe His Majesty would not hesitate to award them the 'King' Medal. However, what we should be considering now is how to deal with the enemy tanks that are about to storm into the city!"

Lu Lin quickly gathered his thoughts: "Contact Ahmed."

He then shooed the communications officer aside and took control of the control panel himself.

This way, he can receive information from both the guerrillas and the First Mechanized Infantry Battalion simultaneously, handling all levels of intelligence himself, saving him the trouble of explaining where the cheat came from when performing micro-management.

Soon Ahmed's voice came through the radio: "This is the Vatani Battalion. We are organizing defenses on the main street of West Boudal. Uh, Major General?"

“It’s me. I will now directly command the Watani Battalion and the First Mechanized Infantry Battalion,” Lu Lin replied. “Every unit must take my orders as the top priority.”

Ahmed hesitated noticeably: "It's not that I don't trust you, Major General, but isn't this a bit..."

Generally speaking, commanders are responsible for macro-level coordination, so to say they're doing micro-management is a bit of an exaggeration.

Lu Lin replied, "As a qualified commander, I have memorized the names of every street in Canam, and I can also get the latest information on the enemy's offensive movements."

He added, "However, I also allow you to make your own judgments."

Ahmed paused for a moment before replying, "Understood, Major General. From now on, the Watani Battalion will be under your full command."

"Hmm." Lu Lin was very satisfied.

Although the urban warfare was brutal, it could effectively offset Zion's armored advantage. A soldier wielding an anti-tank rocket launcher could easily blow up a tank.

If Taric's camouflage forces were primarily used to disrupt Zion's offensive rhythm, then the real key to victory in urban warfare lay with infantry and positions equipped with anti-tank weapons.

Lu Lin looked at the city defense map on the wall. He wanted to make the most of his cheat-like advantages and turn Garnam into Zion's meat grinder.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Did you hear that? The major general is going to personally command us in urban warfare."

Lieutenant Muta of the 1st Mechanized Guards Infantry Battalion suddenly received orders, and his platoon's infantry vehicles quickly changed direction.

As they passed the hiding spot on the main road, they saw a Chieftain tank with a blue flag flying, and the commander on top of the tank waved to them.

"Take out a few more Zion tanks!" Lieutenant Muta shouted.

"Don't worry!" The train conductor gave them a thumbs up: "I'll give them a good spanking!"

The car had only been driving west for a few minutes when Lieutenant Muta heard gunshots and the roar of engines not far away, but it didn't sound like a tank.

Based on his experience, he judged that the enemy was likely the vanguard, and they must have heavy machine guns.

Ulima, a member of the church who was traveling with them, was trembling. An old soldier next to him taught him how to adjust: "Take a deep breath and clench your thigh muscles. It works very well."

Ulima tried his method, and sure enough, her heart rate gradually stabilized. Then she asked, puzzled, "I know about deep breathing, but why do I need to clench my thigh muscles?"

The veteran said, "Of course, it's to prevent you from wetting your pants. Oh, I can't stand the smell."

The other soldiers burst into laughter. Ulima laughed along, then said, "Although this is my first time on the battlefield, I will follow orders and won't hold you back!"

Lieutenant Muta nodded: "Don't worry, it won't be long before you become a veteran too."

As they approached their destination, they were stopped by a roadblock. Lieutenant Muta shouted, "Everyone get out of the vehicles. The target is Delta Street. Free fire is permitted."

After checking their ammunition, everyone quickly jumped out of the vehicle and moved towards the ruins, hugging the wall.

They quickly climbed the stairs, set up a defensive line of sight, and through holes in the wall, Lieutenant Muta saw the Zion soldiers approaching below.

Without any communication, Muta started throwing grenades out of the hole, and after pulling out the pin, he deliberately held them in his hand for a few seconds.

The entire platoon opened fire simultaneously, and some even threw Molotov cocktails down.

The Zion soldiers downstairs immediately began shouting and quickly returned fire, bullets whizzing through the walls, but Lieutenant Muta had already ducked and taken cover.

When the sound of a grenade exploding came from downstairs, he picked up his gun again and fired. This time he aimed at the enemy machine gunner. The bullet went through the Zion soldier's neck and immediately stained his windproof scarf red.

“This is Al-Iraq, your God is not in service!” Ulima shouted as he fired.

The veteran laughed heartily: "See? He adapted pretty quickly!"

But just then, they heard the roar of tanks, not just one, but coming from all directions.

"Damn it! Zion's armored forces have entered the city!" the veteran shouted. "The defensive positions outside the city are definitely doomed!"

Intense gunfire erupted from all parts of the city, turning the entire western city into chaos. To make matters worse, the Zionists seemed to be on a strong offensive, with tanks leading the way and bombarding any buildings they encountered.

“This can’t go on,” Lieutenant Muta shouted. “We have to get back into the infantry fighting vehicle, or we’ll be wiped out sooner or later!”

The entire infantry platoon quickly moved toward the infantry vehicle. On the way, they spotted a Zion infiltration squad clinging to the wall. The veteran quickly drew his gun and fired, but unfortunately, the bullet missed and grazed the wall, leaving white smoke. The squad reacted quickly and took cover in nearby bunkers.

"You son of a bitch!" the veteran cursed, quickly threw two grenades, and caught up with the main force.

"over there!"

Lieutenant Muta quickly located their infantry fighting vehicle hidden on the side of the street, but before they could get close, a rocket-propelled grenade flew from the other side of the street and blasted the vehicle into a fireball.

"Gan!"

Lieutenant Muta spotted the Zion soldier wielding an anti-tank rocket launcher, and the soldier spotted him too, both guns spitting fire simultaneously.

The entire city had become a meat grinder, with gunfire coming from different directions every few steps. The veteran and several other soldiers provided cover for each other, using two-round bursts and three-round bursts to make it impossible for the enemy to discern their numbers.

But this stalemate can't go on forever. Before long, reinforcements from the other side will arrive, and then they'll be completely finished.

"What do we do?" the machine gunner asked Lieutenant Muta. "Boss, it's time for you to make a decision!"

Just as Lieutenant Muta was about to order a breakout, Major General Amir's voice came through the headset: "113B, break through to the northwest and rendezvous with crew 1701."

Lieutenant Muta paused for a moment, then relayed the major general's instructions to all the soldiers.

The veteran touched his head and said, "What are you all standing there for? Let's go!"

At that moment, Lieutenant Muta noticed that Ulima was limping, and his left trouser leg was stained red. He frowned and asked, "Was he hit by a bullet?"

Ulima glanced down and said, "It's nothing, it must have been a scratch, it doesn't hurt much."

Lieutenant Muta gave a signal, and the veteran helped Ulima along as the group began to move forward quickly.

They made their way through the narrow alleys, and as they reached the designated block, the sound of tanks grew ever closer.

An experienced soldier took the lead, but as soon as he poked his head out, he was so frightened that he shrank back.

Less than 10 meters away from them, a Zion Chief was driving towards them!

The entire team was caught in a dilemma.

Just then, the opposite wall was smashed open with a bang, and a tank with a blue flag flew directly into the Zion chieftain's rear end!
This scene shocked the infantry covering the tank; due to the angle of view, they thought it was their own tank.

Lieutenant Muta reacted the fastest, grabbing his submachine gun and starting to fire, taking advantage of the moment when the infantry were stunned, and mowing down a whole group of them.

The tanks with blue flags also opened fire, and a close-range shot sent the Chieftain's turret flying into the air like a can lid!
Lieutenant Muta was thrown off balance because he was too close, and his head was ringing. His teammates quickly dragged him back.

Is it 113B?

The chief, who was wearing a blue flag, opened the hatch, revealing a familiar face.

"Al-Hali, you fucking bastard!" Lieutenant Muta's face was a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“In just a short while, I’ve taken out three armored assault teams!” Al-Khali said happily, but his tone quickly turned somber: “However, my infantry squad has just been wiped out. Let’s go, we’ll move together!”

Muta: "Is this the Major General's intention?"

“Yes, it was the Major General’s order.” Al-Khali nodded.

Lieutenant Muta and the other soldiers exchanged glances, all clicking their tongues in astonishment.

"He injured his leg, so we helped him onto the tank."

Lieutenant Muta asked Ulima to climb to the top of the chieftain's turret, but the latter shook his head: "I can't operate the machine gun, so let someone else have this position! I'll just hang on the side skirt."

“There’s a safety rope! Remember to attach it properly!” Al-Khali reminded them.

So they retreated while covering each other. At first, Lieutenant Muta was worried that his own anti-tank positions might misjudge the situation, but he soon realized that he was overthinking it.

All the positions along the way were clearly marked, and at most, people would just stare at them as they passed by.

Lieutenant Muta suddenly had a feeling that, although their defensive line was shrinking, every bit of the force was being used effectively.

"This is too much!" He had no idea how to describe this experience of fighting.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Lu Lin felt like he was playing Red Alert, only this time with voice control.

Under his command, the Zion armored forces lost dozens of soldiers for every hundred meters they advanced.

The tank and infantry combat groups that have achieved the most victories are those disguised as Zion forces. So far, each combat group has destroyed at least one enemy unit of similar size on average, while also disrupting the enemy's offensive rhythm.

Ironically, this is a tactic that the Zionists love to use, but now it's being used against them.

However, more enemy troops are pouring in from the industrial area to the west, using their numerical superiority to gradually erode his soldiers and positions.

“Right, can’t I still use artillery?” Lu Lin’s eyes lit up.

Given the density of enemy troops entering the city, wouldn't it be easy to wipe out a large number of them even with one's eyes closed?

Just as he was about to call in the heavy artillery brigade for targeted bombardment, Yehena's panicked voice suddenly came through his ear: "Amir, I feel like something's not right."

Lu Lin quickly switched his view back, and as he turned around, he saw a furtive figure across from the command post.

Immediately afterwards, two round objects smashed through the window and were thrown in.

Hand grenade?

How did the enemy sneak in?

In the brief moment he was stunned, Ibrahim roared and pounced on him, overturning the table in the command room to the ground.

Immediately afterwards, the grenade exploded.

(End of this chapter)